A turn of phrase,
a twist of tongue,
one never knows,
what words have done!

Witty, wounding,
willful, wilt;
dripping sarcasm,
to the hilt!

Satire pricks it,
to the quick;
sensibilities,
rendered sick!

Every phrase,
a play on words,
“is play the thing,
for only nerds?”

And is the poet,
on the beer,
simply ‘cause,
he dares to swear?

Mightier than,
the sword, the pen,
that pricks the conscience,
in its den.

And mightier, still,
the will, that’s shrill,
enough, to yet rebuff,
its quill.







  Submitted By: Robert LeMessurier